Just three weeks ago, Mr. Alan decided that I am capable of teaching one of my weakest peers - calculus, presumably because I have shown the most patience in group projects and once wore a button badge on my pencil box that had 'Math- The Only Subject that Counts' written on it.
The truth is I'm a timid person who cannot speak up in group projects and eventually ended up doing all the work. Which I guess is what patience looks like to a middle-aged high school math teacher. But, in fact, I've never really taught anyone who's not a close friend of mine because that is awkward and I am awkward; and ironically, hate awkward situations that I, myself - initiated.
But when you suck at sports and need those extra credits in any way you can, you don't say no.
So, that's how I ended up tutoring Garrett Carson calculus after class just before he goes to football practice. Which, as I had anticipated, was awkward as hell.
We meet each day at 2.00 p.m. in the empty classroom next to our calculus class. Just the two of us. Trust me when I say that I have a feeling Mr. Alan was trying to help me get some make-out action with Garrett because what teacher in the right mind would do that? I even asked if we could use the calculus class instead so that it doesn't feel so weird. But, of course, he needs it for Math Club meeting.
So here's how it usually goes: I will come to the class first and get my homework out while I wait for Garrett and he would show up at the earliest, 10 minutes late. It might sound like a complaint, but honestly, I'm glad because that's 10 less minutes of awkwardness. Then he will greet me with either 'Yo, sorry I'm late,' or 'What up, Grey? Ready to calc?' which are both easily very cringe-worthy.
Then we will proceed to either finish the homework Mr. Alan gave or do some exercises on topics he still can't get the hang of. Occasionally, he would ask me questions and that is the worst part of the whole ordeal. Of course, I know, that's the whole point of me being a tutor.
The problem is, each time he asks me a question, he would lean in towards me at such a close proximity that I could hear his voice vibrating against my skin.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.
But if I could see the specks of brown in his light green eyes or the way his auburn hair tussles lightly over his forehead when he leans, or worst of all, examine the plumpness of his parted lips in such detail; I think I'm not being that much over the top.
Whenever this happens – which is often – I turn into a stuttering blob of a human being.
"Hey, can you teach me question number 5?" he would ask.
I look up and there they are: those stupid beautiful green eyes looking straight into me. Straight into the occipital lobe of my brain that controls my ability to speak like a normal human being.
"Ah, yeah. Yeah, sure. Question 8? That's a... good one. I used to get stuck with that too," –cue forced stupid sounding laughter- "Trigonometry, am I right? You never know when you'll get triggered! Ha..ha..ha"
YOU ARE READING
The Switching Arrangement
Roman pour AdolescentsSeventeen-years-old Luna Haley Grey is a shy, awkward little nerd who's idea of a good time is drawing and reading comic books. But after a friendship blossoms between her and South Cross's handsome star footballer, Garrett Carson, her life is turne...